


Lights, Camera, Action! (Are We Canon Yet?)

by Sosh_022



Series: Fleurmione Week 2021 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actress AU, Day 1: A Crush is Revealed, F/F, FW2021.1, Fleurmione Week 2021, Fluff, POV Second Person, hermione is SMITTEN, inspired by the actresses of all my fav wlw ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 18:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sosh_022/pseuds/Sosh_022
Summary: Fleur guest stars on a TV show that Hermione stars in.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Series: Fleurmione Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2222310
Comments: 30
Kudos: 179
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2021.1





	Lights, Camera, Action! (Are We Canon Yet?)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fleurmione Week to all the Fleurmionions! Here's a silly little one-shot to start off the week.

The director breaks the news of her guest starring on a Wednesday afternoon and amidst the excited cheers, your screams are by far the loudest. For the next two months, it is the only thing you can talk about. 

“Can you believe it?” You almost grab Harry by the collar and shake him in excitement. “They actually got Fleur Delacour! _The_ Fleur Delacour!” 

Your show isn’t small by any means. In fact, it’s one of the most popular TV shows airing at the moment. But Fleur Delacour is no small name actress and despite being a multi-award winning actress yourself, you cannot contain your inner fan-girl. 

“Yes, yes,” Harry mutters, trying not to spill his coffee as you wave your arms in excitement. “You’ve said this like a hundred times now. We’re all super excited to work with her.”

Excited is an understatement. 

“Oh, I hope I get to be in the same scenes with her,” you gush, imagining what it would be like to witness Fleur’s acting in person. She’s always so captivating on screen. 

“Considering you _are_ one of the main protagonists of this show, I’d say it’s very likely,” Harry points out with a laugh. “Just be careful around her unless you want her to know about your little crush.”

“I don’t have a crush,” you deny automatically. “I just think her acting’s neat.”

“Her acting’s neat?” he repeats slowly, making sure you’re hearing yourself. “Sure. As if you didn’t send me twenty gifs of her just last week and then gush about her killer jawline for an hour.” 

You blush, but the embarrassment of having your not so subtle celebrity crush revealed so blatantly only silences you for ten minutes before you’re back to gushing about Fleur Delacour to everyone around you. 

“Please tell me you’re not going to be this embarrassing when she’s on set,” says Ginny. “You’re going to scare her away.”

“I won’t,” you reply confidently. “I can be cool when I need to be.”

Ginny scoffs at you. 

You don’t understand where all the skepticism is coming from. You’re an actress, a damn good one at that, you’ve got this. 

* * *

You don’t got this. 

The first table read for the season falls on a Tuesday morning. You’re seated in your usual spot between Harry and Ron, nervously muttering your lines under your breath. The seat diagonally across from yours is conspicuously empty and you keep glancing at the name written on the placard because you still can’t believe it. 

But it’s real. It’s entirely real because she walks in ten minutes later and you promptly forget your name, where you are, and how to breathe. The director introduces her rather unnecessarily since you already sure everyone knows who she is with your constant inability to shut up about her. But in that moment when she finally appears in front of you in person, you cannot find a single word. 

You spend the entire table read looking down at your script, trying not to cast secret glances at your stunning co-star. But you’re only human, and every so often your eyes would flicker to her. One time you look up and she is already looking at you. You not only completely miss your next cue while lost in your endeavor to determine exactly what shade of blue her eyes are but you also completely stumble over your line and almost knock Harry’s coffee over in your haste to recover any sense of composure. 

Quiet chuckles are muffled throughout the room as everyone eyes you knowingly. You refuse to look up for the rest of the session. 

Next time, you think. Next time you’ll muster the courage to look her in the eyes. 

* * *

  
  


You in fact do not muster up the courage next time. Instead, you spend an entire week skirting around her presence. 

You find your own behaviour rather ridiculous but it doesn’t stop you from gravitating towards her whenever you get an opportunity to. For a week, you chase after glimpses of golden blonde hair and traces of lingering laughter. 

Your co-workers tease you about the fact that you always happen to be within some radius of Fleur and you can only force a chuckle as you recite some lame excuse. 

You wonder if she’s noticed your presence.

You half-hope she does and half-hope she doesn’t because both are embarrassing and really, you can’t win in this situation. 

You watch her act for the first time in person and she is every inch an amazing actress and more. 

“How does she do that? God, I think I’m in love,” you mumble dreamily as you watch her bring life to her character for the first time. 

The audio director shoots you a look and then gestures towards the director. 

  
“Cut! Re-roll from the top.” He swivels around in his chair and looks straight at you. “Quiet on set please.” 

You turn red as you realize your absentminded love confession has just been caught on tape. You apologize profusely towards the audio director who only smirks at you. 

You hold yourself back after that. This is borderline creepy behaviour, you tell yourself. So you just sort of pine from afar. It’s nice, it’s easy, it’s comfortable. There’s no danger of dying from a sudden heart attack, which you honestly think you might do if she ever smiled directly at you. So yeah, for the first week you keep your distance and you think, this isn’t so bad. You’re handling it. 

* * *

You’re not handling it. 

You’re not really handling it despite your somewhat hopefully convincing calm exterior, because now you’re acting together. Your characters meet for the first time and surprise, surprise, they hate each other. As a result, you’re supposed to hate her, on camera at least. 

“Cut!” 

You blink out of your trance, wondering what went wrong this time, only to see everyone staring at you. 

“What?” you ask dumbly, trying your best to avoid her gaze. 

“Just- Hermione,” the director sighs, motioning you over. “A quick word please.”

He pulls you aside. 

“Remember, you’re supposed to hate her character. Stop-” he motions at your face, “whatever that is. I know you’re infatuated with her, we all are, but I need less lovesick fool and more petty teenager rivalry. Can you do that for me?”

“Oh,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you didn’t even know you were donning a lovesick expression. You shoot a quick glance her way, hoping she didn’t hear the director just reveal your secret crush. You doubt she has because she’s off to one side busy getting her makeup retouched. You can’t help but think that she doesn’t need it. She’s perfect the way she is. The light always seems to reflect off in just the right angles and — the director snaps his fingers in your face. 

“Please,” he pleads and you flush guiltily. “I need you to focus. Just for the camera, act like you hate her.”

You nod and the director ushers you away. He calls out, “From the top!” as everyone scrambles to their places. 

You do your lines, this time making sure to put some venom in your expressions and words. It’s hard to maintain eye-contact though. Fleur Delacour is _intense_ , so in lieu of hateful staring into startling blue eyes for a full three minute scene, you fixate on other places — the area between her eyebrows, her long eyelashes, her nose….

Your gaze trails lower and lower and you find yourself entranced by the movement of her lips. 

They curl into a smirk mid-sentence and you immediately dart your gaze back up. She’s noticed. She’s definitely noticed. There’s a hint of humor in those grey-blues but she continues acting through the scene as if nothing had happened. You find it much harder to maintain eye contact after that and her eyes chase yours almost teasingly.

When you re-watch the playback you can’t believe your eyes. Has this scene always been so flirty or are you just projecting your crush onto something that isn’t there? Is this what the writers intended? You can’t believe the director actually okay-ed the take but you suppose your wide-eyed mesmerized expression could be mistaken for outrage...right? 

You do a few more takes and Fleur’s acting is so magnetic you can feel yourself getting sucked into her orbit. You two play off each other like you’ve been acting together for years and everything feels so natural that when the director calls ‘cut,’ it takes you a second to get out of character. 

At one point, the cameras are all on her, and you get to take a short break from pretending to glare at her. You stand there, no longer a character on set, but as yourself, as you admire the way she bleeds into her character. You’re completely sucked into the small details and conscious acting choices she puts in and before you know it, her scene is over and the cameras pan to you. 

You blink as your mind comes up blank. “Uh, line?”

The director sighs from his chair. “Cut!” 

Harry and Ron eye you knowingly from the corner of the set. Out of the three of them, you’re the least likely to forget your lines. When the show first aired, you had a habit of mouthing _their_ lines. This isn’t like you at all. 

Deep down you hope that Fleur turns out to be a horrible person. Maybe then your little crush would go away. 

* * *

  
  


Life is apparently very unfair. Because Fleur Delacour is not only an amazing actress and breathtakingly gorgeous, but also heart wrenchingly _kind._

It almost makes you mad, if you weren’t so busy laughing at her jokes and relishing in her delightful company. You two may be enemies on screen but off screen you two could not be better friends. 

You find out early on that she is a bookworm like you and soon you two are swapping your favorite books to read during the down hours on set. There is a lot of waiting time between scenes as sets are being readied - time you spend sitting next to her on a couch reading her favorite books. When she catches you making faces at one of the pages, she asks you to indulge her and you do the same. Little by little you learn what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, and what moves her beyond the power of simple words. You always thought that your favorite books couldn’t get any better but soon they all carry memories of her within their pages and now whenever you think of them, you think of her. 

She invites you to her home to read through a scene and your heart twitches because it’s a horrible idea to spend time alone with her but you go anyway. You two spend more time goofing around and reciting your lines in ridiculous accents, ad libbing out of character, than you do actually working. It’s stupid and it’s fun. 

Your little crush, which started out as pure admiration, grows into something more and as your heart swells with every smile she shoots your way, it becomes increasingly harder to hold back and hide it. 

But there are whispers that Fleur is dating some co-actor from her previous show, so you know there’s no way she can ever like you back. You need to squash this crush, or if you can’t, at least hide it so it never sees the day of light. No one can ever know. 

* * *

  
  
Everyone knows. 

You are apparently a terrible actress and you need to return every acting award you’ve ever won because despite your best efforts, _everyone_ finds out about your little crush on Fleur Delacour. And you mean _everyone._

The first episode of the new season premieres on a Thursday night and the viewer ratings reach an all time high thanks to Fleur’s first ever guest appearance. The reception is overwhelmingly positive and the writers are optimistic in maintaining this level of response for the rest of the season which is great news and everyone is celebrating in the group chat. 

You even end up trending on Twitter and Tumblr. 

Which isn’t new. But there is a new hashtag. It takes you only a second to realize what it is. 

It’s your character’s name mashed with Fleur’s character name. 

Dread fills you for a brief moment as you click on the hashtag and scroll through the posts. The editors of the show apparently couldn’t edit out all of your lovesick staring and the fans have latched onto it immediately. You and Fleur were only in two scenes together in the entire episode, totalling no more than five minutes. Yet those five minutes are now all over tumblr, cut down frame by frame and zoomed in on your face so everyone can see the effect Fleur has on you. You stare at the same gif of you eyeing your co-star, over and over on your feed, and even you have to admit you look absolutely love-struck. 

The tags are horrifying to read through. 

_#new otp? #someone give hermione some water pls #girl looks thirsty af_ _#omg the way she looks at her #girl that’s GAY #is that sexual tension i’m sensing? #enemies to lovers pls #your honor they’re gay #if they don’t kiss by the end of this season istg #i will die for these two #real subtle there hermione #i see where those eyes are looking_

The internet ships you two hard and now the entire world knows of your crush. Your only last hope is that Fleur is too clueless to catch on. 

* * *

“Wifey!” 

That’s how she greets you as soon as you walk onto set Friday morning and you freeze, wide eyed, as she runs over and grasps your hands in hers. 

“Wifey?” you stutter. It’s early and you haven’t had your coffee yet. Maybe you heard wrong? Because there’s no way Fleur Delacour would ever — 

“Didn’t you see?” Fleur asks teasingly. “According to the internet, we’re in _love._ ” She pretends to swoon not knowing that you are actually swooning on the inside. 

“I-yeah, I saw.”

Fleur grins at you. “I guess our chemistry is just too good to ignore.” She winks and pulls you in. “Take a selfie with me?”

You nod because you can never say no to her. She holds up her phone and you smile into the camera. You watch as she turns her head and puckers her lips, hovering just far enough away from your cheeks that you don’t touch. She catches you staring through the camera and her gaze turns teasing, almost flirty. You blush but you don’t move as you stare at the distance between you two or lack thereof, wondering what it would be like to close it. She takes the picture. 

“We look so cute!” She gives you a real kiss on the cheeks then, effectively turning your brain into mush, and you have to keep telling yourself that the French are just touchy people to keep your cool. 

“Can I post this?”  
  


You nod and she skips away happily to get her makeup done. 

Later that day, as you scroll through your feed, you see her post. You’re so caught up by how cute you two look in the picture that you almost don’t see the caption. 

_On set with the wifey <3 _

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on what it means. 

* * *

You sort of dwell on what it means because the term of endearment sticks, and Fleur takes to calling you wifey whenever she can. 

You’re sitting in your trailer getting your hair done for the day when the door opens and Fleur bursts in, phone in hand. 

“Wifey!” she calls out as she walks over and sticks the phone in front of you both.

“The fans were asking for you,” says Fleur. “I hope you don’t mind,” she smiles shyly. “I missed you.” 

You roll your eyes fondly and gesture her over. You smile back and even though your makeup is only half done, you wave to your fans. 

“I missed you too,” you smile back, and pull her into a hug. Your hair stylist scolds you lightly and tells you not to move. 

“There she is everyone,” Fleur coos from beside you, angling the phone so it’s only filming you. “Isn’t she beautiful?” There’s a slight pause as she rests her head on her chin and just stares at you admiringly. You try hard not to blush. 

“That’s my wife,” she whispers to her phone and you can’t help the rush of warmth that spreads through your chest. Behind you, your hair stylist clicks her tongue like she can’t believe the tooth rotting shit she’s witnessing. 

“Aren’t you guys jealous?” Fleur continues. “I get to see this face everyday.” She reaches out and plays with a strand of your hair, staring lovingly at you through the mirror. 

You wonder how much of this is fanservice and how much of it is real. You ignore the way your crush grows inside your chest. 

* * *

  
  


Snippets of you two getting coffee outside of the studio get blasted over the internet on a Sunday night. It doesn’t help that Fleur is a touchy person. She’s practically draped all over you in every picture, holding your hand, linking your arms together, hugging you from behind. 

The fans catch onto it of course. 

And naturally, so do various show hosts. 

  
  


* * *

“This is a question for Hermione and Fleur.” 

The interviewer wears a sly grin and your stomach drops through your butt because you just _know_ what he’s about to ask you two. Next to you, Fleur shifts in closer and you take comfort in her presence.

“Many of the fans ship your two characters together. They want to know if you’re dating in real life.”

Fleur laughs and you scrunch your face, cringing already. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone asked you this. You also know this wouldn’t be the last time either. 

You wait, curious of how Fleur is going to answer. 

“Well? Are you two in love?” the hosts asks.

Fleur looks over at you, all adoringly. “Are we?” she asks you. 

“I am,” you answer honestly, and your heart literally stops beating for a second. You cannot believe you’d just admitted it on live television. Fleur laughs at your answer and the host’s eyes go wide as do the rest of the cast, because did you just confirm your crush on Fleur Delacour to the world? 

Fleur pulls you close and squeezes you into her. 

“Who can resist such a face?” Fleur asks playfully, even though you desperately wish it were true. “I will say, you can’t have our level of chemistry without some of it being real.”

“Exactly,” you agree even though your heart is pounding against your ears, because what on earth did that mean? Did Fleur feel it too? The connection between you two? 

Hope flutters inside your chest. 

  
  


* * *

You both end up being nominated for the same award. Instead of splitting the votes and having neither of you win, you secretly tell your fans to vote for her.

It works. She wins and when her name is called you’re the happiest person in the audience. 

She calls you up to stage to stand with her in front of everyone. When you shake your head and protest, because this is her moment, she should have it, she scolds you and you’re helpless at saying no. 

“Get your cute little butt up here, love.” 

So you shuffle on stage and you automatically reach for her waist by nature, only to pull away last second when you remember where you are and who is watching. She notices and pulls you in next to her anyways.

The entire time she gives her winning speech, you’re just staring and staring and you barely hear a word she says, your smile widening everytime she laughs.

Her hands squeeze yours and despite not having won the award, you leave the stage feeling like a winner. She doesn’t let go of your hand the entire night. 

* * *

You muster up the courage on a Monday night and ask her about the guy from her previous show. The one that is captured in pictures with her, meeting inside coffee shops and restaurants. 

“Oh him?” she responds nonchalantly. “We weren’t dating. It was all for show. To get the fans on board. We stopped meeting up after the show ended. You know how it is.” She gives you a look you don’t quite understand. 

A bitterness sinks through your chest. You can’t help but let your mind wander. How much of this is just for show? Has any of this been real? You kind of don’t want to know the answer, fearing it would break your heart. 

  
  


* * *

“Wifey!” She grins at you from across the room. 

You grin back, but it’s more forced than before, tinged with the sadness of inevitable heartbreak. You stare at the smile on her face. How good of an actor is Fleur really? 

“Hey,” you say softly. 

She looks at you, concerned. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. What’s up?”

Her face brightens up. “Wanna grab a coffee later? I have something to tell you.”

She bites her lip and you’ve never seen her so nervous, but it’s a happy nervous. You want more than anything to say yes, but you can’t. You can’t risk falling even more. It absolutely shatters your heart, but for the first time ever, you shake your head and reject her invite. 

“I’m sorry,” you lie. “But I’m busy.” 

“Oh.” Her face falls and you almost take your words back but you have to be strong. You have to break your own heart now before it breaks even more later on. 

“Later then?” she asks and you hate how unsure she sounds. You nod. 

“Later,” you say. 

Later doesn’t come. 

* * *

Your friendship becomes stilted. She still smiles at you and seeks you out but you’re doing your best to avoid her. 

You’re too absorbed in your own heartbreak to notice the way her face falls every time you do. 

Eventually, she stops seeking you out. 

* * *

Her character gets killed off on a Sunday night. You weren’t expecting it at all. Apparently Fleur received a contract to star in a new show. 

She never told you. You know deep down that it was your fault. 

You cry as you watch her fake her death on screen. When the director yells ‘cut!’, her eyes seek you out. You don’t hide the tears streaming down your face. 

When Fleur comes to say goodbye later, you’re all cried out. 

“Keep in touch?” she asks, hope fragile in her voice. 

You nod and know that it’s a lie. 

Because this is it. This is where Fleur cuts you off just like she did with her other male co-star. You no longer need to act for your fans. This is the end of your story. It was sweet while it lasted. 

  
  


* * *

A week goes by without any texts. Then two. Then three. 

You stare at your phone and you can almost hear your heart breaking in your ears. 

It really was all just an act, you realize. 

* * *

Fleur shows up on your doorstep on a Saturday night. 

You’re surprised to see her. “Fleur? What are you doing here?”

She looks angry, furious. She’s as gorgeous as you remembered. 

“Was it all just for show?” she spits and it’s the most disheveled you’ve ever seen her. Because of that, you have a hard time comprehending anything she’s saying. 

“What?” 

“Was it all just for show?” she repeats heatedly, taking a step forward making you stumble back. “The hand holding. The name calling. The I-love-you’s. Was it all just for show? To make the fans happy? Was it all just pretending? An act? Was any of it real?”

You frown because it’s never been an act, not really. The only acting you’ve done is to hide how real it was for you. 

“Of course not,” you say indignantly. 

“Then why?” she huffs. 

“Why what?” What is Fleur even doing here? 

“Why have you not called or texted? Why did you stop? Did I mean nothing to you? Did what we have mean nothing?”

“I thought I-I thought you-” You frown. “I thought _you_ were the one acting.”

She laughs in disbelief and pokes a finger into your chest. 

“You daft, insufferable, thick-headed, stubborn ass. I’m in love with you!” 

You’re still frowning because that isn’t the type of love confession you were expecting, You weren’t expecting any, really, but you certainly weren’t expecting to be so insulted. 

“What?”

Fleur throws her hands up. “I’m in love with you! I thought I was very obvious. And I thought you felt something for me too.” She throws you a bitter look. “But clearly I forgot how good of an actress you were.”

Your jaw drops. She turns to leave but you don’t let her. 

“Wait-Wait!” You pull her back. “You’re in love with me?” you ask incredulously. “I’m in love with you!” And because you never take more than you can dish, you add, “You’re a dense, dim-witted, clueless little lightbulb if you didn’t know that!”

Blue eyes narrow in outrage. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

The two of you stare at each other, anger rolling off you in cool waves, your chests heaving. 

You still can’t believe she’s here, standing in front of you like this. Your mind is moving at a thousand thoughts per minute. And as the anger dissipates, all that’s left is hope.

“Would you like to come in?” you ask breathlessly. 

You watch as Fleur softens at your words. 

“I would love to.” 

You step aside and let her in. 

  
  
  



End file.
